Transformers- Instruments Of Destruction
by Quirky Circuit
Summary: Covert military operations between two warring factions of TRANSFORMERS are about to collide in a public spectacle, with a small family caught in the chaos of an interplanetary conspiracy. These Robots In Disguise must unravel an ancient threat buried in the sands of the earth before their greatest villain unites a crumbling empire with only one goal in his sights; Destruction.
1. Chapter 1

**THAT TIME OF THE MONTH**

Candace Chase found her eyelids refusing to open as her alarm rang, blaring the radio on some God forsaken mexican station playing what sounded like a jumbled mess, but she was certain there was music in there somewhere. Her gray eyes slowly pressed open, and she pulled her head out from beneath the thick blanket she had buried herself beneath, blowing a lock of long, almost black hair out of her face. Candace lifted in her bed and twisted awkwardly, yawning wide mouthed like a lion.

The sixteen year old reached into her dry mouth and removed her retainer, placing it in a case on her cherry wood nightstand. Candace clicked her jaw comfortably and kicked off the last of the blankets. She was nearly nude, adorned only in a pink camo sports bra that she quickly wiggled herself out of and then darted into her bathroom; she desperately had to pee.

She shivered as her bare feet slid across the wood floors in the hall, and then found herself comforted by her release. Her stomach was still cramping, and when she wiped herself clean she knew why; it was that time of the month. Throwing the tissue into the toilet, Candace struggled to her feet and immediately hopped into the shower, she was eager for a fresh, cold bath.

After her bath, Candace affixed a pad to her boy cut panty and then dressed for the day; she wore a gray tank top with a charcoal flannel over-shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. A pair of faded jeans, and sneakers over a fresh pair of socks. Her long wavy hair hung just past her shoulders, and she slid black trimmed eye glasses onto her face. Ready for the weekend, she hurried down stairs.

Her father, Chip, was already in the kitchen, prepping a breakfast of muffins, blueberry and chocolate chip. Two large glasses of milk were poured and placed at the table.

"I heard ya moving around," Chip said, winking at his daughter.

Chip was the spitting image of Nathan Fillion, to a scary degree, as if the actor had been cast to play her father.

His daughter quickly scarfed down eight muffins before announcing she was full. Then two full glasses of milk evaporated in seconds. All before Chip had even turned out the stove.

"That was mine!" Chip exclaimed, it was his glass of milk she drank as her second.

"It was getting warm," Candace argued with a shrug.

Chip scowled, sitting at the table opposite his daughter and slowly ate his own muffins. He was pouring himself a new glass of milk all the while glaring playfully at his daughter.

The glow of the warm sun was filtering in through the large kitchen windows as Chip finished his own breakfast, and he and his daughter stood in sync, carefully cleaning up after themselves, unconsciously mimicking each other, like a mirrored view. At the counter, Candace stood almost as tall as her father, at 5'9" she would outgrow him soon.

With his hands thoroughly soaked in water, Chip's cell phone began ringing, humming a musical key from an 80's song by Stan Bush. Chip rolled his eyes, threw off his gloves and snatched the phone from the counter top. Chip narrowed his eyes at the ID and answered.

"Mister Witwicky- how are you?" he said flatly. That was her father's boss.

Chip nodded at the phone as if Witwicky could see him. "I'm on my way."

With that, Chip hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. He faced his daughter and sighed embarrassingly. "I have to go in," he told her.

"No movie then?" Candace asked, drying the last of the hand wash dishes, everything else was loaded into the washer.

"We're still on for tonight," Chip promised, the weekend was their movie night, his wife had started it when Candace was born. It was one of the few traditions they carried in this house.

Chip grabbed a black blazer hanging from the coat closet in the hall outside the kitchen and swopped it around his body. Then he pulled out a security clearance that read SKYWATCH, and fastened it to his collar. Finally Chip kissed his daughter on her fair skinned forehead and told her goodbye.

"Call me if you need anything."

Candace nodded, waving at her father.

Chip reached the door and looked back; "Be safe, rugrat." Chip winked, and Candace winked and gave him a thumb's up.

She watched her father leave, then caught sight of a beautiful car parked two houses down across the street; a Lamborghini Perdigón, with a blue paint scheme. It was impossible to mistake, and she had a certain passion for cars. She only drove a yellow Volkswagen beetle. What she wouldn't give to get behind the seat of a Lamborghini, though.

As her father drone away in his truck, Candace watched the Perdigón rev up and slowly drive off in the same direction. She surmised it was only a coincidence. But a shiver drifted down her spine when she swore there was no driver behind the wheel. She shook the thought from her mind and retreated to the sofa, it was time for Saturday morning cartoons.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

**ABOUT LAST NIGHT**

Samuel Witwicky was spending his Friday night busily involved at the Skywatch Atlantic Observatory, an elaborate base that expanded into the Atlantic Ocean. It was here, outside Philadelphia, that Skywatch commissioned its first project in 1943, using alien technology recovered from the sea in 1775; The American Revolution was not fought over freedom, it was a massive covert operation to claim the greatest discovery in human history, just outside Pennsylvania. That discovery was a giant ship of alien origin, and six giants buried at sea, like a lost tomb from a far off world. With America's independence secured, this massive facility was constructed under the watchful eyes of our founding fathers.

But very little remained at the Atlantic site now, beyond fragments of the ship, most of the heavy gear was shipped off to Texas years ago. That was where his father, Director Witwicky was stationed, with that "Consultant" Doctor Chip Chase. Sam wished he had more time with his family, who was back in Texas, but the raids were increasing, now every three weeks. One had occurred at the Arctic Observatory just yesterday, so Sam knew it was safe, but his father just didn't hold his opinion in such a high regard. He wanted Sam at the Atlantic site, and he simply did as he was told. Sam's father said it was comforting for the agents, but the young man felt no less agitated.

Sam looked longingly at the photo of his family; his thirteen year old son, Daniel, and his beautiful, golden haired wife Carly Witwicky. He wished to find more time, to abandon his post and run away with them, hide from whatever chaos was coming. Ignore the terrible reality of their world, that they were not alone. That there was giant transforming robots hiding amongst the unsuspecting civilians, waging some kind of war. Perhaps against humanity, perhaps they were angered that the humans had experimented on their kind, twisted them into something unrecognizable. Maybe they all deserved to die.

He scratched at the back of his neck, fiddling with his close cropped haircut. Sam loosened his tie and stood up from his desk, hoping to stretch out his legs. Then an alarm rang, and special agent Fowler burst into the room. He was a bulky black man and an acclaimed pilot.

"One of the pipes blew," Fowler explained. "Massive clog."

"Something get caught?" Sam asked.

Fowler shrugged. "You want to have a look?"

Sam nodded in affirmation, snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and chased after Fowler.

Heading to the sub level, Sam and Fowler decided it was safer to take the stairs instead of the lift. Especially in cases like this. After descended three flights of stairs, the pair arrived to witness maintenance already on site, desperately trying to brave the rushing, relentless water that pouring in from a massive hole in the pipes.

"What happened here?" Sam demanded.

"I can't explain it!" a man in a yellow hard hat yelled, spitting out water as he did so.

"Was this a rupture?"

"No, sir," the man answered, crawling away from the water. "Something broke through those pipes." Sam had just grabbed the man by the shoulder and hefted him up as he finished. This was a secure facility, access through the underwater pipes was impossible without some kind of scuba gear, and even then scanners would have picked up heat signatures. The base wasn't even alerted, this frightened Sam.

"Fowler, lock this place down."

Fowler nodded, sprinted to the level's security panel, accessed the grid after scanning his card, and initiated Observatory Lockdown.

"Get this pipe sealed," Sam ordered, then slid his gun out of its holster.

The maintenance men nodded and plowed through the water.

Sam and Fowler cocked their handguns, made certain the safety wasn't on, and peered down the dank, illuminated halls of the subbasement. The pair huddled back to back and crept carefully down the hall, before the lights flickered, died, and then the reserved power kicked in, illuminating the hall in red emergency lights that notified the crew of a downed generator.

"This is a raid," Samuel observed.

"Crap," Fowler said. "So much for a weekend at home."

"I heard that," Samuel replied dryly.

Sam wondered how the crew at the Arctic Observatory felt when the raid on their base began, slowly and deliberately rendered powerless. Every member was killed, no survivors, no security footage. The base was wiped clean, as if nothing existed. He be damned if that was going to happen to the men under his protection.

The generators were sealed on the subbasement level, so their enemy was still stalking the shadows. The two men were blocking the only way out of the sub levels, and nothing had crossed them. Descending further into the darkness, Sam and Fowler arrived at a large hallway intersection. The center path would lead them toward the main generator, but it was already shut down, the right led to the reserved generator, and if someone wanted to completely wipe the station they would have to move there. Then, the path on the left was the facility's massive networked infrastructure.

The pair reluctantly agreed to split; Fowler was creeping toward the reserved generator, while Sam took aim through the shadows and peered down the hall on the left. There was a low, rumbling growl that sent a shiver up Sam's spine, and he nervously peeked over his shoulder;

Stalking down the center path, eyes glowing a violent red, was a mechanical beast, some type of panther, at least six feet long. A purple symbol emblazoned on each shoulder. The beast had its eyes set on Fowler and lunged forward.

Sam panicked and hurled himself forward while firing blindly over his shoulder. He threw himself and Fowler forward, into the steel ground, and the beast slammed into the wall, digging its massive claws in and ripping the alloy to shreds, leaving a barely recognizable wall in its wake. The beast roared at Sam and Fowler, who had just stumbled to their feet.

"No no no no no," Sam repeated like a nerve whacked, idiotic teenager. Who behaved like that? He stammered repeatedly, pushing Fowler forward.

The pair fell into a dead sprint.

"This is going to be the shortest escape I've ever made!" Fowler shouted as he and Sam fired over their shoulders.

Sam tripped, Fowler skid on his smooth black shoes to a halt and ran back to grab Sam. But the beast was rapidly closing in.

"Go!" Sam stammered as he pulled himself up.

Fowler sprinted through the door, turned back and held out his hand.

"Close it," Sam said, stumbling to his feet.

Fowler gritted his teeth.

"Do it!" Sam said as he was running.

Fowler smashed his palm on the door's controls, and it sealed shut just as Sam reached the door. Fowler violently slammed his hand against the door; Sam was trapped with that creature on the other side.

"Activate defense protocols!" Sam yelled.

Fowler hurried to the security console on the wall and entered the protocol's activation sequence; the base roared to life, and, hopefully, emitted an emergency transmission immediately to the Hub in Texas. Fowler sighed, and then the beast's claws struck through the door, blood soaked on its nails.

"Fowler," Sam gasped. "Take care of Daniel for me."

Fowler bit his lip, and laid his hand over the holes in the wall. He heard Sam's body slump to the floor, dead.

Suddenly the beast clawed repeatedly at the door, desperately trying to break through. Fowler fell over on his back in shock, his heart beating rapidly. He scooted back against the railing of the generator, lifted his arm and aimed at the door. Anything that broke through was getting a belly full of lead.

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
